


Or Worse, Expelled!

by FantasticNumberNine



Series: John Watson and the Philosopher's Stone [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU, Crossover, Flying Lessons, Gen, Potterlock, giant three headed dogs, lots of running, midnight duels, remembralls, that are guarding something, youngest seeker in a century
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-06
Updated: 2014-07-06
Packaged: 2018-02-07 18:31:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1909350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FantasticNumberNine/pseuds/FantasticNumberNine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Gryffindors have to share their flying lessons with the Slytherins, setting off a chain of events that leaves John and Greg with a very disgruntled Mycroft, who is convinced they'll get him killed soon--or worse, expelled!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Or Worse, Expelled!

**Author's Note:**

> This is ridiculously fun to write. 
> 
> *disclaimer*

Because sharing potions with the Slytherins wasn't enough of a hazard, the first year Gryffindors were now expected to share their flying lessons with them as well. Even Greg's previously uncontrolled (to Mycroft's great disconcertion) excitement was dampened by the announcement. Briefly. 

Of the first year Gryffindors, only John and Molly were panicking. John had never been on a broom before. And Molly had never been allowed. Unsurprisingly, Mycroft Holmes had read through all of the libraries books on flying, but John was certain he'd seen the outwardly calm boy reread _Quidditch Through the Ages_ at least twice, which John thought was Mycroft's own brand of panic (Mycroft never looked at his texts when writing an essay, there was no reason for him to be reading a book about quidditch more than once).

When the day finally dawned, it was bright and sunny, and John felt nauseous. He and his classmates joined the Slytherins on the grass and jostled each other for the best brooms--which was impossible, these were battered old school brooms.

Madame Hooch instructed them briskly, and John was pleasantly surprised to have his broom jump up into his hand almost eagerly. Looking around, he found that he was one of very few students who had successfully called their brooms. Mycroft's broom seemed as determined to stay on the ground as he was, Greg held his easily and grinned at him.

Newly confident, he joined in Greg's sniggers when Madame Hooch told Moriarty that he'd been holding his broom wrong his whole life. Their good cheer was short lived. Molly, worried that she'd be left behind, shot up into the air before the whistle and quickly lost control, falling with a crack from several meters up in the air. Broken wrist.

"Oooh look!" Jim Moriarty had waited until Madame Hooch was out of sight before swooping to where Molly had fallen. "Hooper's remembrall!"

"Give it here, Moriarty."

He grinned. "Going to show off that Gryffindor bravery, Johnny? We'd better do this properly then!"

Moriarty was in the air faster than John could respond, and despite years of the incorrect grip, was obviously very good at flying.

"Coming, Johhny?"

John climbed onto his broom, Mycroft grabbed his arm. "You would risk getting expelled for this?" 

John shrugged him off, "I don't like bullies."

He kicked off the ground and very nearly forgot about Moriarty, and Molly's remembrall, and getting expelled. Flying was _brilliant_. But, "Give it up, Moriarty, or I'll knock you of your broom!"

Moriarty raise a skeptical brow and John flew at him, letting go with one hand to swipe at him, missing only because Moriarty ducked out of the way at the last moment with a shaky laugh. 

"Not so confident up here without your bodyguards, are you?" John taunted.

Moriarty's face contorted angrily before settling into an unfriendly smile. 

"Fetch, Johnny."

He launched the remembrall behind John, who, on instinct, turned and shot after it, catching the glass ball moments before it crashed into the ground.

When he joined Greg at dinner, neither boy could believe his luck.

"Seeker! And first years never make the team! You're gonna be the youngest player in what, a century?"

Even Moriarty's demand to duel that night only served to fuel their excitement, though Mycroft Holmes certainly tried break them out of it.

"The pair of you are extraordinarily selfish, I hope you're aware. Wandering the castle at night to duel with Moriarty, you'll lose Gryffindor the points John should have lost us earlier when you get caught."

"Better not get caught then."

"Cheers!" Greg gave a mocking salute before he and John resumed eating their dinner with gusto.

At eleven thirty, the boys made their way out of their dorm and down to the common room.

"I was hoping _you_ wouldn't actually do something so idiotic, John." Mycroft Holmes stood up from the chair he'd been occupying, a book in hand and wearing a silky blue dressing gown.

"Oh, go back to bed!" Greg groaned.

"I had considered telling your brother--"

"Oi!"Greg's brother Percy was Prefect who would have no problem getting his little brother into trouble.

"Now I know I was wrong not to."

John had never met such an infernally meddlesome person. "Right. Let's go."

Greg followed him out of the portrait hole, and Mycroft followed Greg. 

"Are either of you capable of using that thing bouncing around in your skulls? If Slytherin wins the cup because of your lack of house pride, I will take it upon myself to make your lives hell--"

John huffed. "We'll let you know if we notice."

"Now go away," Greg added.

"Fine," Mycroft stuck his long nose in the air. "Don't say I didn't warn you. You'll remember my words when you're on the train home tomorrow."

But when he turned to return inside the common room, the portrait had closed, and the Fat Lady was gone. Greg laughed.

"Guess you'll be joining us on the train tomorrow. Come on John, we'll be late."

"On the other hand, you're chances of getting caught will be minimized by my joining you--"

"Absolutely not."

"You aren't expecting me to sit around and wait for Filch to give _me_ a detention? At least if I'm found with you I can explain that I was trying to keep you from doing anything too stupid, and you can both verify my defense--"

"You've got a lot of nerve--"

"Shut it, both of you!" John hissed, "I think I heard something."

Greg whispered, "Mrs. Norris?"

Fortunately, it was not the caretakers irascible cat, but Molly Hooper, who had arrived at the entrance to their common room earlier but had forgotten the password and had fallen asleep waiting for someone to help her. And she refused to be left alone again.

It was an agitated John and Greg who arrived at the Trophy Room, trailing an annoyed Mycroft and terrified Molly behind them. Moriarty was nowhere to be seen. 

"He's late. Probably chickened out," Greg muttered.

"Yes, because you and John cut such frightening figures--"

A noise sounded in the next room and all four children jumped. The voice they heard did not belong to Jim Moriarty. It was Filch and Mrs. Norris. Signaling frantically, they shuffled as quickly and quietly as they could out into a long hall lined with suits of armour. They were nearly at the end when Molly tripped into Greg and they both fell into one of the large knights.

"Run!" John shouted.

He led their little group around the halls and through a tapestry and a secret passage before slowing to a halt.

"I... Told... You..." Mycroft was bent over, hardly able to breathe. 

Greg ignored him, "We should get back to Gryffindor, fast."

"You do realize that was a trap? Moriarty never intended to meet you tonight, he told Filch--"

"Yes! I got that, let's go."

And they promptly ran into Peeves, where Greg's temper snapped and they were running once more, down the hall to a door that refused to open. 

"We're done for!" Greg moaned.

"Oh, move over!" Brandishing his wand, Mycroft tapped the lock and whispered "Alohomora!"

The door opened and the four of them rushed inside, closing the door behind them quickly, leaving Filch to deal with a consistently unreasonable Peeves. 

"He thinks this door is locked," Greg sighed in relief, but someone's elbow jabbed John's side, "Hey--" and Mycroft's hand went over his mouth. 

He and Greg turned, and John thought he must have walked into a nightmare. A giant, three-headed dog was staring at them as though it couldn't believe it's luck. John reached behind him for the door handle. There was no choosing between becoming dinner and detention with Filch.

Back in the common room, Molly abandoned the boys for her dorm and Greg threw himself into one of the overstuffed chairs by the dwindling fire. Mycroft stood, shaking, nearby and John dropped to the floor.

Greg broke their silence. "What are they thinking, keeping a thing like that in a school?"

With that, Mycroft regained his imperious attitude. "Do either of you ever use your eyes? Didn't you see what it was standing on?"

John snorted. "Its feet? You were looking at its feet? Well excuse us for being preoccupied with its heads! There were three, if you noticed!"

Mycroft closed his eyes, visibly willing away their inanity. "It was standing on a trapdoor. _Obviously,_ it's here to guard something." He fixed them with an exasperated glare, "Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to bed before either of you can come up with an equally ridiculous plan to get us all killed again--or worse, expelled."

Greg watched him stalk up to their dorm, silky blue dressing gown flowing behind him, his mouth hanging open.

"No. Of course we don't mind. It's like he thinks we _made_ him come along!"

But John was thinking about what Mycroft had said. The dog was guarding something, and Hagrid had said that the only place safer than Gringotts was here, at Hogwarts. Apparently, John had stumbled on the hiding place of the small, paper-wrapped package that Hagrid had retrieved from vault 713.


End file.
